And the Clock Ticks On
by Somewei
Summary: When the dust has settled and the world has moved on, three boys are left standing in the midst, lost and unsure of their place in the world. As the clock ticks on and they move forward, they find clarity, acceptance and resolution. (TR Universe, subtle PpGxRrB)
1. Clarity

**Yes, I know. I said I wasn't going to do a sequel for **_**Taking Responsibility.**_** And it's not a sequel. It's more closure than anything, specifically for the Rowdyruff Boys. This three-part fic is also my Swansong of sorts, as I don't foresee writing for the PpG section after this. I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer:**_** The Powerpuff Girls don't belong to me and no profit was made from this. All rights belong to Craig McCracken and Cartoon Network.**_

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**And the Clock Ticks On**

**Part I: Clarity  
**_**("As I breathe out, the past is gone")**_

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The postcard of the world map was old, crinkled, and had numerous of coffee stains on it. Accompanying the crinkles and the coffee stains were red circles and x's over the different continents, indicating the places he had visited or the places he intended to visit. Folded up and stuffed into his wallet, it had been used and handled so many times it was a wonder that it hadn't been ripped to shreds. Really, though, a couple more uses and it would crumble. Even if that did happen, he'd just find some tape and put it back together. For as long as he had breath, he was going to make sure that the postcard was going to stay with him.

His lips twitched at that thought as he lifted his coffee cup up to his face. His bright blue eyes carefully scanned the area as various people passed him by. There were some on bikes and there were those that walked, but all of them had the same look on their faces. Whether they were talking to their companions next to them or wrapped up in their own little worlds, each of them seemed content and at peace. It was an expression that was once unfamiliar to him and starting to become something normal.

"You look happy."

He looked over at his beautiful companion and smiled. "I like this time of day."

"Around three in the afternoon?"

He laughed and shook his head. "No. Not the time, but thefeeling. It's that time of the day where people are at peace with their surroundings. It's that time when people take a break from their hectic lives and just…_be_. They stop being businessmen and women, employees and employers, and are just themselves. They stop and appreciate their time with each other or the time they have for themselves. It's peaceful. I love it."

It was her turn to laugh as she sat down across from him. "I understand. It's a good feeling."

The two fell into silence as he continued his game of watching the people around him. He could vaguely hear his companion ordering a cup of coffee next to him, but he just allowed the quiet atmosphere to overwhelm him. Exhaling a breath, he closed his eyes.

"Boomer?"

"Yeah, Bubbles?"

"Are you tired, or are you just enjoying yourself?"

He opened his eyes and winked at the young girl sitting across from him. "Enjoying myself."

The small smile she had on her face grew wider. "Good."

They sat in a comfortable silence once more, the sounds of daily life washing over them. Boomer watched as one person idly traveled down the cobblestone street on a vesper, as a mother and daughter pointed to delicately made dresses through a window, as a young man laughed at whatever the person on the other end of his call said. Bubbles, for her part, watched Boomer before glancing down at her hands.

"I can't believe I nearly destroyed all this."

Bubbles looked up, shock etched on her face. Though Boomer's face was neutral, she could see the painful guilt in his eyes. Softening her look, she murmured, "What do you mean?"

He gestured to everyone around him. "This. I nearly destroyed it."

She stared at him as his words bounced around in her head, trying to process what he just said. She had thought that they had talked through this. She thought that she had settled whatever turmoil was plaguing him. But she could still see it in him, turning around and around in his head.

"The streets of Paris – it's amazing they fixed it to look the way it used to. Beautiful." He didn't seem to see the conflict in her face at what he said previously. Every word he said, cut into her heart. He wasn't just observing the beauty of the old European city. No, he was observing everything – and _everyone_ – he could have destroyed. This wasn't just enjoyment. This was atonement.

Then she knew.

(After all, why wouldn't she? She knew him better than anyone else.)

From the moment he was released from his cage, Boomer had been unstoppable. He had wanted to visit every place he had read or heard about. He wanted to completely immerse himself in the life that Bubbles had so vividly described to him in days of yore. Bubbles, knowing this desire, wanted to experience every moment with him. She wanted to see him move beyond his past and become someone different, someone better.

While she had thought the trip was about experiencing the new aspect of life, she had missed that Boomer was on a journey of atonement. Or, perhaps, it was punishment? He wanted to see the places he felt he nearly destroyed, to see the people he felt he nearly crumbled underneath his fist.

"No."

Boomer jerked his head towards Bubbles at her strong word. Blinking slowly, he repeated, "No?"

She reached across the table and placed a hand on his hand. "You didn't destroy the world."

Now it was his turn to stare at her, at the woman whom had started out as his savior and was quickly becoming his foundation. Furrowing his eyebrows, he started to say, "But–"

"_No._" She violently shook her head. Bubbles clasped both of her hands on his one now. She stared at him with such conviction he could feel it in the depths of his soul. She shook her head again. "You didn't nearly destroy this world. I cannot take back your past. What's done is done."

When the guilt in his eyes didn't leave, she stood up, went to him, and kneeled before him. Gently brushing her fingertips against his cheek, she murmured, "It's time to embrace your future. Every second you spend immersing yourself in guilt, you miss out on this gift presented to you. Look around, Boomer. The humans pass by you without a second glance."

At her words, Boomer looked at the people around them and saw she was right. At the other tables of the café they were in, people were busy talking amongst each other, not sparing the two blondes a glance. On the streets, people walked by without looking at them, at _him_. In the buildings, people moved on with their lives, not concerned with them.

"They know who you are. They know what you did." She placed both hands on his face and directed his gaze on her. She smiled. "But they don't stop you from being a part of them because they have forgiven you. Boomer, _you are forgiven_."

Something in her words twisted his heart.

_Forgiven_.

It was such a small word, but such a powerful one to him. He took another moment to glance at the distracted people around him. They didn't stop him from entering their cities, they didn't stop him from eating their food, and they didn't stop him from sitting at this table.

As those thoughts settled inside of his soul, a cup of coffee was slide onto the table. Boomer jerked, startled, as he realized it was the coffee Bubbles ordered. He glanced at the beverage, vaguely aware Bubbles was getting up to accept her order, and then heard their waitress say, "Anything else I can get you, _monsieur_? _Mademoiselle_?"

Tentatively, he glanced up at the waitress. There she stood – a small, fragile thing – and patiently waiting for him to say something. When he didn't say anything, the waitress very slowly offered him a smile. That took the breath away from his lungs because the smile was _genuine_. It was true, honest, and open smile. A human was smiling at him as if he was any other person. Then he realized Bubbles was right.

_He was forgiven_.

"No," he whispered, fighting back tears. "No, everything is fine. Perfect, even." He shuddered a breath. "_Thank you_."

The waitress's smile grew wider and simply nodded at him before turning away. He knew she didn't understand the deeper meaning, the gratefulness behind his 'thank you,' but he knew it was all right.

(It was okay because he was forgiven.)

He brought his hand to his mouth as he turned back to people watching, the guilt swept away with raw joy. He didn't move when Bubbles scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder, her coffee cradled in her hands. And he didn't stop watching the people around him when Bubbles asked him, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

And he could only answer with the truth.

"_Yes._"


	2. Acceptance

**Here's the Greens. Not sure if I like or hate it more than the Blues. You be the judge. Enjoy.**

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**And the Clock Ticks On**

**Part II: Acceptance  
****(**_**"You live for the fight when it's all that you've got"**_**)****  
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"Marvel's better."

Buttercup shot her counterpart a disgusted look for all of two seconds before going back to gaze at the cards in her hands. She didn't say anything at first, even with Butch's eyes trained on her, as she carefully thought about what to do next. Finally, she slid a card over to her green-eyed companion and said, "Your brain's effed up. DCU is the way to go."

He snorted, taking the card. "Marvel has the Hulk and Thor."

She took another card from the deck. "And DC has Wonder Woman and Batman."

"_Wonder Woman?_" he choked, his jaw dropping in a laugh. The cigarette in his mouth dropped down to the floor and he stared at the smoking bud like something precious had been lost to him. "Shit. Look what you made me do."

She shrugged. "Should you even be smoking those? Causes lung cancer."

"Now I know _you're_ the one whose brain is all screwy." He pointed a finger at her. "First you pick Wonder Woman and then you tell me that smoking causes lung cancer. Are you sure that you and your uptight sister didn't trade brains?"

Buttercup rolled her eyes at when she saw him tapping his temple. Turning back to the game at hand, she grunted, "No. I'm just saying."

There was a level of silence between them after that. Though she hadn't said it in a bad tone – she said it quite nonchalantly, to be honest – it had made Butch stop all movement.

(An impressive feat since Butch never stopped moving.)

They sat there. _One second. Two seconds. Three seconds_. Buttercup just watched him, somewhat worried and somewhat in awe of his impersonation of a statue. Then, he broke form and placed his cards face down. He brought out another cigarette and his lighter – green with a skull and crossbones (a gift from Buttercup) – and lit the cigarette. He took a long, deliberate drag before exhaling.

"I'm fine, you know," he said at last. He picked up his cards. The cigarette was wedged between his lips, the smoke spiraling and curling and twisting in every which way. He didn't look up at her as he said this. "Without my powers, I mean. You don't need to mama me or anything."

Again, the two said nothing. A heartbeat passed before Buttercup snorted rather unladylike. "I only said that because of what you do, jackass. With all the running you do, your lungs can't be screwed up." She smirked. "Besides, do you think the ladies are going to like that smoker cough you're going to develop?"

He winked playfully at her. "Hasn't driven you away yet, Butterfingers. I think I'm safe."

She turned back to her cards. "That's because I pity your sorry ass."

"Mm, babe, I knew you were looking there. Is it to your liking?"

She tossed him the middle finger and all he did was laugh. When nothing more was said, they went back to their game of poker, moving cards around and throwing each other silent barbs. It was a familiar sequence of events, the two of them having hung out like this since before Mojo's downfall. Their hangouts became better, though, during Butch's days in the slammer. Buttercup didn't have to pretend to be someone else and the two came to a mutual understanding.

(It was a mutual understanding of_ bloodlust_, but who was going to say anything?)

"I used to be angry, ya know."

Buttercup glanced up towards Butch. Her counterpart wasn't look at her. The hand holding his cards was resting on his knee while the other one was moving the cigarette in and out of his mouth at his leisure. His face, however, was looking towards the setting sun. Despite him not looking at her, she could see the undertones of bitterness in his eyes.

He spoke again after a moment of silence, "I used to want to kick everyone's asses for what they did to me and my brothers." He shook his head slowly. "I hated them for taking away something that was mine, that was a part of me."

Buttercup didn't need to ask who was the '_them'_ he was referring to. He was talking about the people that had decided he would remain powerless for the rest of his life. The people that decided it was a good idea to never again let the Rowdyruff Boys be on par in terms of power with the Powerpuff Girls.

She knew that Butch had had a hard time with the decision at first. He had been sour and mean to any human that crossed his path in the beginning. He did everything he could to make the guards at the prison suffer, to feel the anger and pain he was feeling the moment his powers were taken. It wasn't until Brick had finally had it with Butch's attitude that the dark-haired boy stopped with his harsh actions and arsenic-laced words.

Even though Buttercup had visited him frequently in jail, he never once spoke about his loss. She, at first, had tried to get him to talk about it, but he'd always change the subject. Eventually, she stopped bringing it up and began to skirt around the subject altogether.

"I wanted to rip them all to shreds." He gave a short laugh and looked down at his hands. "But how could I? I didn't have the means to anymore." He rubbed the back of his head. "Sucks to be the powerless one, you know?"

It really hit home that Butch wasn't powerful one day when the two had been playfully wrestling. She had accidentally put in too much power into one of her moves and hurt him. Sprained wrist, they told her. Nothing to worry about, they said. But she had worried because, for the first time, she saw the anger, the envy, and the bitterness on Butch's face at not being as powerful as his female counterpart.

"Guess I understand them."

Buttercup blinked slowly. "Huh?"

He finally looked at her. "The humans….or should I say my people since I'm one of them now. I get them. I understand what they were feeling."

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "When?"

"When we were ruling over them," he answered simply.

Then it clicked for her.

"They felt powerless when Mojo took over the world – _their_ world. They felt powerless when the regional lords drove out their armies and leaders." He paused momentarily and then released a shaky breath. "They felt powerless whenever me and my brothers put them down."

Buttercup stared at him with something akin to awe. _Was this…_

"I get that."

…_acceptance?_

Then his eyes locked with hers, intensity pouring out of his emerald orbs. "This is what you were trying to tell me. I didn't get it at the time because I hadn't ever lost anything important to me." He snorted. "Guess it took me losing my powers to finally understand what you and the humans were trying to tell us. But that's fine. I can accept my punishment."

It was. It _was_ acceptance. He was accepting what happened to him, accepting his loss.

A smirk formed on his face and suddenly he was the Butch she knew. "I mean, at least I can still do whatever the hell I want. A small price to pay, I guess, for freedom." Then, he looked unsure. "But, you okay with a lame ass counterpart like me hanging around?"

Buttercup never got a chance to say anything because a shout to their right broke the little bubble they had formed around themselves. "Hey, Corporal, let's get going!"

Butch glanced to his right. "Coming, Sarge!" He grinned widely at her when he turned back to her. He slapped the cards down and said, "Gotta go, Butterfingers. Duty calls. Guess it's just as well. I was losing this game anyway."

He swung his leg over the wall they were sitting on and began moving in the direction his platoon was at. Buttercup slowly gathered her cards, glancing up every so often at her best friend. When all the cards were gathered, she pushed herself into the air and hovered.

"Hey, asshole!"

Butch turned around when he heard her call.

"Wonder Woman is a badass," she said and Butch looked a little confused. She hesitated saying this next part for just a second, but then pushed it out with a grin, "But she's got a helluva partner in Batman."

He rolled his eyes. "She's got Superman too, remember?"

She shrugged. "Who needs powers when you got respect between partners, though."

The two of them didn't move for a second. One of them was in the air, her powers making her a goddess amongst men, while the other was on the ground, a regular human with a hell of a right hook. Then, slowly, Butch allowed a grin to spread. "Ah, you're a crazy wench, you know that?"

"Not as crazy as you," she shot back. As she started to fly away from the scene, she called out, "Stay safe, partner!"

Butch stood there, watching Buttercup fly away until she was nothing more than a tiny speck in the sky. Shaking his head, he moved to catch up with his platoon. "See you around, _partner_."

Everything was going to be okay.


End file.
